Having three kids with diabetes is hard.
It sometimes means late nights.
It sometimes means running supplies or even a forgotten insulin pump to the school.
It sometimes means food fights.
It sometimes means difficult ‘discussions’ about blood sugar checks.
It sometimes means educating an uninformed or misinformed public.
It sometimes means fighting with insurance.
It sometimes means consequences for ‘non-compliance’.
It sometimes means holding your breath when you go to wake your child up after not hearing alarms at night to check a blood sugar after bolusing to correct an extreme high with enough insulin to down a mammoth.
It sometimes means letting your kid ‘shout it out’ when they have reached their breaking point.
It sometimes means meeting with school staff to ensure your child is safe at school.
It sometimes means laying awake wondering about their lives after they leave the safety of home.
It also means:
Watching your children thrive despite a chronic disease that disrupts their days and nights, seeps into every corner of their lives, and rages war on their bodies.
I don’t often talk about how hard diabetes is for the parents of kids with diabetes.
I don’t ever want pity and I get a good deal of hugs without playing the diabetes card or sharing my personal frustrations with the world at large.
It is hard being a parent of a child with diabetes and I have 3.
It is exhausting.
It is scary.
It is emotionally challenging.
I do cry. I cry often. I hate diabetes. I hate fighting with my kids about diabetes.
I worry often about them when they leave my home and I hope I have armed them well to continue the fight when I am not standing shoulder to shoulder with them.
Since my first child was diagnosed I have gained over 60 pounds. 60 pounds in just under 10 years. Some of that is Rice Krispie treats and lattes. A lot of it is due to sleep deprivation, periodic depression, and exhaustion. Not getting 6-9 hours of sleep on a consistent basis causes weight gain. It disrupts hormone levels and leaves us in a constant state of ‘fight or flight’. I blame much of that on diabetes.
Still I don’t want anyone to pity me. Least of all my kids.
I don’t want them to ever consider how diabetes effects (affects? – crap IDK) me.
I don’t want them to apologize for highs or for not checking.
It isn’t for me that I want them to manage diabetes well.
It is never and will never be about me.
Well – maybe in 15 years when I write a book it will be about me. (Names changed to protect the innocent and not so innocent of course.)
I love my life.
I love my kids.
There is no job more important to me than raising my kids, providing them the support they need (sometimes against their will), and loving them.
It is an honor and a privilege to be their mom and all that comes with it.